


No Objection

by wirewrappedlily



Series: Prosecution [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a defense attorney, M/M, Stiles is his cop, because this is the sequel to Best Defense, because we all know that I suck at keeping track of who is and is not in a fic, how could there possibly be no boning in a sequel to THAT?, much boning, relationships and characters will be updated as I go, there will be boning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Back by popular demand (hush, let me have my delusions of grandeur): the sequel to The Best Defense!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. You Are Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand (hush, let me have my delusions of grandeur): the sequel to The Best Defense!

Stiles Stilinski groaned under his boyfriend's hands, completely breaking the act he was trying to put up of being asleep, "I can't believe you got shot." Derek laughed, voice husky. Stiles heard the distress, though; knew it was coming. 

"I can't be your kept man, Hale. I wish I could, but it's just...not who I am." 

Derek pressed a kiss to the bottom of Stiles's ribcage, over the worst of the five bruises that had been bullets caught in his flak vest. "You make my life...very stressful." 

Stiles snorted, his lips curling up in a smile, "That's what you get for falling in love with a workaholic cop. You have no idea how much ribbing I've had to take for being with a defense attorney." Stiles chuckled as Derek pressed a kiss to the base of his spine. "Also, if you plan on having sex with me, you are doing all the work; I feel like half-cooked noodles." 

Derek laughed, leaning up to bite at Stiles's earlobe with human teeth, "You aren't allowed to do anything tonight. I'll get dinner, draw you a bath--"

"Draw _us_ a bath. I want to ride the romance until the wheels fall off, baby, while you are still stupidly in love with me." Derek laughed again, fitting himself over Stiles's back and resting with most of his weight on his elbows on either side of Stiles's body, making Stiles feel covered; protected. Stiles hummed, rubbing his face into the pillow. 

"Stiles," Derek actually nosed at Stiles's shoulder, insistent until Stiles moved his head to look at him, then started rolling over entirely and groaning the whole way even when Derek protested against him moving too much, "What do you feel about me?" 

Derek smiled, and Stiles rubbed his palm over the shadow of stubble on his jaw, "I love you. It feels like I'm constantly floating in how much I love you. Sometimes when you smile at me, I fall in love with you all over again." 

Derek dipped his head to kiss Stiles's palm, sliding down and boxing Stiles in with his broader body, "It's not going to fade, Stiles. We're mated, so how I feel about you will never change, will never fade; and how you feel about me probably won't, now, either." 

"I like that," Stiles whispered, "but you're still getting naked and wet with me later." Derek grinned, kissing him even while he was grinning. 

"Such a hardship…" Derek murmured against Stiles's mouth, laughing. Stiles snickered, reaching up to kiss him deeper, sliding his leg up Derek's hips. 

"Okay, maybe not _all_ of the work." Stiles relented, devilish. 

"You're tired and sore and you got shot at today. You should really have a rest, Deputy Stilinski." 

"Well, Counsellor Hale, I'd really rather you work out my tension in other ways…" 

"That's not going to help with the sore, Stiles." 

"Yes, it will." 

Derek laughed, licking a line over Stiles's collarbone and biting at the base of his throat. "No, it won't. Sleep, heal these bruises that don't belong on your skin. I'll get you off until you forget how to talk when you wake up, just rest for now." Derek urged him down against the blankets, kissing him languidly and letting himself hug Stiles as tight as he dared. "You shouldn't have a single damn mark from anyone but me, Stiles: go the fuck to sleep." Stiles snickered, sighing as he closed his eyes obediently, laying his neck bare in a long arc. 

Derek kissed under his jaw, getting himself upright when Stiles's long limbs could be coaxed to let him. Shaking out the covers, Derek tucked Stiles in for his nap, mentally running through his checklist of ingredients as he strode for the kitchen. Stiles stirred in his absence, sliding into a tiny ball under the heavy comforter Derek had draped over him, turning onto his right side so he'd fall asleep. Derek stopped himself from smirking; ridiculously pleased that he knew those little movements off by heart. Stiles would be rubbing his feet together slightly under the blanket, a self-soothing tic that came just before Stiles buried his head under the blanket, too. When they slept together, Stiles needed none of this, really, but sleeping apart or without each other brought the entire routine. Derek knew he had one of his own, more prominent when he did sleep with Stiles. Sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the door for protection rather than for ease of access, unlike Stiles; having his chest and especially his arms free from the blankets to react quickly if something were to happen; Stiles would wrap around him like an amorous boa constrictor in his sleep, and Derek could only sleep right with his nose buried in Stiles's hair. His habits worked better with Stiles than he ever could have imagined. 

The apartment had been put mostly into boxes; they'd be making their way to California come the dawn if Derek could persuade Stiles out of bed that early. Laura had called him every night while they'd packed up Stiles's life and he'd wrapped up his case load, now partnerless with Matt's death. Derek knew it wouldn't be long before he was kissing over all of those bruises, using his own warmth to make Stiles's aching body feel just a little better. Scott and Isaac were coming with them. Erica, too. Lydia had simply scoffed when they talked to her, and though Jackson had disappeared after Matt had died, they both knew it wouldn't be the last they saw of him. 

Being an Alpha had changed things for Derek. He'd never wanted a pack, not one of his own anyway, and, after his family had burned, he hadn't wanted one really at all. The shorter life expectancy of an omega had appealed to him, and if it hadn't been for Laura needing the last of her family, he would've chosen death, he had no doubt. But he never would have met Stiles, and the mere thought of the loss devastated him now. 

Stiles's healing had taken months, the Force-enforced therapy bringing Stiles home every night to push into Derek's arms and curl up on his lap, telling him in a quiet voice about what he couldn't talk about with the counselor, about the fact that he'd been awake for the whole thing; he'd heard Kate tell him things that made him rage with hate towards the bitch. And Derek had come bursting in to save him, it was the only reason he could fathom the notion of being safe. Stiles let Derek lead him back to being okay. 

When Stiles padded sleepily out of the bedroom, his eyelids were still heavy, one of Derek's shirts hanging off of him. "You are not that small, and I am not that much bigger than you. That shirt should fit." 

"Mmm, it is too big for me, though, and I like it." Stiles mumbled, attaching himself to Derek and laying his head between Derek's shoulders, "Smells like you. 'S warm like you. Warmer than my clothes." 

"I don't see how that's possible, but there's a lot about you that shouldn't be possible, I've decided to ignore it." Derek chuckled as Stiles bounced his hip against Derek's, "Go sit, I'm just serving up." 

"I'm keeping you. You've lost your choice in the matter. You cook and have the ability to fuck me until I pass out, if we'd met any sooner, we'd've both never become what we are, we just would've staged a love-in with no press invited. You are _mine_." 

Derek leaned back slightly, holding back a happy noise at the possessiveness in Stiles's tone, in his words. "Yours." He echoed, eyes closed as Stiles slid more solidly into his back, one arm wrapping around his waist. Stiles mouthed at his neck, and Derek arched against him, a small noise squeaking out of his throat as his mouth fell open. "We...food…" 

Stiles hummed, sucking a mark in the curve of his neck, "After." Derek wasn't sure if he meant food after, or sex after, but that question was answered as Stiles's hand splayed long fingers under his waistline, pulling his hips back and grinding Stiles's forward so that Derek could feel him through the fabric. "Would you?" 

" _Yes_." Derek managed breathlessly. "I trust you. Fuck, I want you." 

Stiles nodded against Derek's shoulder, flicking Derek's fly open and slipping his damnable hand down into Derek's underwear, pumping him in one agonizingly long stroke before thumbing the head, Derek's hand nearly cracking the edge of the counter in his grip. "You're giving yourself to me, like I gave myself to you. I know what that means, Derek, and I love you, too. I want you forever, too." 

Derek moaned, relaxing against Stiles's chest behind him, "Stiles, please--" 

Stiles hooked his arm more securely, humming in agreement. He swung Derek around by a grip on the opposite side of his pants, pushing them down and tugging his shirt off quickly, slipping his hand down from the small of Derek's back into the cleft of his ass as he yanked Derek into a kiss, licking his mouth open as he pressed the tip of his finger against Derek's hole. Derek moaned into his mouth, hands fisting in Stiles's shirt before he gave in and tore it in half to get it off, not wanting to break the kiss. Stiles chuckled, nipping his teeth against Derek's lower lip. Stiles groaned as Derek's hands slid his sweatpants down his hips, kicking out of them eagerly and dragging Derek with him as he ran backwards to the bedroom, laughing happily. Derek let himself crash into Stiles's chest as they reached the bedroom, kissing him with abandon. They fell onto the bed in a tangle, Derek opening his legs for Stiles to slot between as the kiss cooled into something deeper and slower. Stiles reached for the lube without needing to look, pulling his mouth away to breathe harshly, his cheeks flaming. Derek's stomach clenched, but Stiles rubbed his hand over Derek's chest, his eyes glowing as he smiled and Derek relaxed in a wave of calm and trust. Stiles rubbed the lube between his fingers to warm it, staring into Derek's eyes as he did. 

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop." 

"I know. I trust you." Derek replied, smiling slightly, "Even though you're being sneaky and distracting me from the fact you're injured." 

Stiles grinned as he leaned down to kiss him, tracing his finger over Derek's opening until Derek relaxed and opened enough for him to get his fingertip in. Stiles worked his finger slowly, taking his time to loosen Derek up, working him back up once Derek had relaxed and the pain had subsided until Derek was a sweaty, pleasure-ridden mess under him, squirming and moaning. Stiles was careful with him, gentle, having Derek open his eyes and watching for any hint of pain as he inched in. 

Derek's fingers tangled through his, the other hand bringing him down for a kiss as Derek brought his legs up to wrap around Stiles's waist, pushing into the last few inches until Stiles was balls-deep inside him. "Stiles...Stiles, move." Derek panted, "Fuck me hard, Stiles." Derek finally burst out with, and the desperation on his brow was eased away as Stiles pulled out and thrust in hard enough for skin to smack against skin loudly, the only other sound either of them could hear over each other's breathing. It wasn't long before Stiles was pulling out, though, turning Derek onto his front and angling him the way he wanted, driving in even harder and faster with the change of position, Derek whimpering into the pillow, his claws tearing into the sheets as he fisted them in a white-knuckled grip. Stiles was relentless, totally focussed on Derek and Derek's pleasure, written over the roll of the taught muscles in his back and the clench of his hole around Stiles's cock as Stiles started to withdraw; Stiles forced himself past the pleasure making his brain a dull haze. Derek didn't even ask him to touch him, tensing until Stiles couldn't move as he came untouched on the bed below him, yelling out almost painfully as he slumped against the bed, the slight jostle where Stiles was still inside him making him groan. Stiles started to carefully pull out, but Derek shook his head, "Just...no, just keep…" he panted, half-muffled into the pillows. 

Stiles was careful with his first few thrusts, the pleasure overtaking him after that. Derek was tight, tightening around him every time he withdrew as if he was trying to keep Stiles in him, and Stiles could only bend over his back, setting his mouth then his teeth against Derek's shoulder as he started coming, his hand over Derek's and his fingers fit against Derek's palm between where Derek's fingers had cut into the bed. Stiles panted with his cheek against the mark he'd just bit into Derek's skin, his softening cock still in Derek's ass. Derek laid down against the bed with Stiles still on his back, pulling Stiles's other arm around him so that Stiles was hugging him backwards. "Thank you." Stiles whispered. 

"'M yours." Derek answered groggily, "I wanted this." 

Stiles lifted his head to press a soft kiss to Derek's abused skin, "I claimed you now. You can't get away from me."

Stiles could hear the grin in Derek's voice, "I wouldn't want to try."


	2. Who Is the Lamb?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where was I found?" 
> 
> "In the warehouse district, stuffed in Derek's duffle bag. A homeless guy was looting the luggage, found you, thought you were dead. He decided all your stuff was cursed, but also told the cops. They called Laura: your ID was burned, everything, but Derek's was hidden in his computer bag. Laura called us when she came and saw that it wasn't Derek."

It wasn't that Stiles was necessarily scared of flying, he just didn't like being trapped in a tin can a thousand miles above ground with no hope of escape if something went wrong. Derek's hand clamped down on his thigh as it vibrated completely of its own accord, and Stiles let out a harsh little breath, closing his eyes as Derek shifted so that his mouth was right next to Stiles's ear, "Had I known, I would've driven us to Cali." 

"'S okay. You can't take that much time off with how much you've already taken, and I--" 

"Stiles, I am my own firm. I'm not strapped for cash, and I would've taken you on a roadtrip across the whole damn country and up to Canada if you'd told me you weren't okay with flying." 

Stiles pulled his mouth to his, his grip on Derek's arms probably too tight as he kissed him desperately. Stiles sighed as Derek moved down his throat, setting his teeth against Stiles's throat and marking him. Something clicked in Stiles, relaxing with Derek's mouth there, the realization hitting after a minute that Derek was Alpha, and that they'd mutually claimed each other. "Does…Does that work like it would with a wolf, now? Because I'm yours…" 

"Something like that," Derek murmured against his skin, chuckling. "It works both ways, actually." 

Stiles's fingers tightened in Derek's collar, his mouth hot and hard against Derek's, until his head was spinning. "When we have both feet back on the ground, I want you to really calm me down." Derek laughed, nodding. His nose drew over Stiles's skin, inhaling deeply as he did, and Stiles relaxed into him. "It's because I trust you...because you're mine and I'm yours and I know you won't let anything happen to me." 

Derek nodded again, sliding his loose grip into a tight hug, Stiles clinging to him, face tucked in Derek's neck, breathing him in and breathing his own scent out. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'll wake you up after we land." 

Stiles didn't feel tired: it was only eight in the morning, and while he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, it'd certainly been...restful. But hugged tight in Derek's arms, warmth growing between them by the second, Stiles's eyelashes started to flutter, dragging against Derek's skin. Stiles sighed out, and the next thing he knew, Derek was bringing him over to rest against his shoulder, kissing his face with a devilish grin. "We're there?" Stiles whined, rubbing his eyes. 

"We are. You okay?" 

"'M fine, just...still tired." Stiles yawned the last, dragging himself out of the warm cocoon of sleep to get up and disembark. Derek laughed softly, snagging his hand and leading them quickly and efficiently through the throngs of people dragging themselves off the plane. Once they got into an easier section, Derek dragged Stiles under his arm, kissing his temple and walking at an easy pace towards baggage. 

"You feeling okay otherwise?" 

"Yeah. You put some sort of hoodoo on me to make me sleep, though. I wasn't tired." Stiles complained. 

"Well, it's hard not to fall asleep when you're being cuddled." Derek informed him on a chuckle, kissing the tip of his ear. "Now: Laura and your dad don't expect us until the end of the week, so I got a suite--" 

"Good lord! Tell me it's in some sleazy dive and I'm not actually your kept man!" 

"It's in one of the top hotels in Los Angeles, I'm slowly wearing you down until you have to give up the badge and gun to just lie in bed with me all day." 

"You're evil. A genius, but evil." Stiles smiled as Derek reeled him in for a quick kiss, both their bags in one of his large hands. Derek directed them to a chauffeur holding a sign with his name on it, and Stiles bit back laughter at it, shaking his head as he slid into the back with Derek, letting the chauffeur deal with the bags. "I'm like my dad in that I will be dead and cold before I give up my badge and gun." Stiles muttered, kissing Derek brazenly in consolation. 

The driver climbed into the front, and Stiles had about three seconds for his gut to clench with that cop-bred feeling that something was about to go wrong when he was proven exactly right. It was a dart gun, if the sharp pain before his black out had anything to say about it. 

Stiles started coming to to the all-too-familiar sounds of a hospital, and he groaned eloquently, his eyes flickering open. Next to his bed was Scott, his dad, and a gorgeous dark-haired woman that had to be Laura Hale, all engrossed in their separate entertainments. His heart gave out a painful cry, "Where's Derek?" He demanded on a croak, struggling to sit up. 

Scott was by his side in an instant, pushing him down firmly with the kind of authority imparted to him not by years of nurse training, but by his mother. "Stiles, you've been poisoned. Monkshood and belladonna. Could've killed you the doses were so large." Stiles's father told him in a voice that said, and would always say, that Stiles had better get to explaining things before his father just arrested him and made sure he got a padded cell. 

" _Where_ is _Derek_?" Stiles demanded, voice a low, flashing growl. Laura Hale smiled sadly, reaching out her long and delicate hand as she ducked her head. 

"Derek's missing, Stiles. The chauffeur that he'd requested from the hotel was found dead in a stolen car that had vanished from New York months ago. From what we can tell, the person who picked you up in the airport was targeting Derek specifically." 

"Because he left me to die?" 

Laura nodded, "I wish there were better circumstances for my meeting you." 

Stiles huffed a laugh, "Me, too." Tears were pricking at his eyes, his chest tight and painful with worry. He was almost having a panic attack, he knew. "What are the--" 

"You have no jurisdiction here, Stiles, and neither do I." His father interrupted, "We let the police take care of it."

"No." Stiles told him in a quiet, enraged voice. "I won't let anyone else take care of it. I won't trust his life to anyone else. I'm looking into this, Dad, you can't stop me. So are you going to help me, or not?" 

Stiles's father, to his utter shock, relaxed, smirking, "There's my son. Thought I'd lost him for a moment there." 

Stiles snorted, looking to Scott, "Where was I found?" 

"In the warehouse district, stuffed in Derek's duffle bag. A homeless guy was looting the luggage, found you, thought you were dead. He decided all your stuff was cursed, but also told the cops. They called Laura: your ID was burned, everything, but Derek's was hidden in his computer bag. Laura called us when she came and saw that it wasn't Derek." 

"I'm not going to like the answer to the question of how long I've been out, am I?" 

"Five days. They had to keep you under, you had...a severe anaphylaxis," Scott told him with a put-upon sigh, "and seizures. They had to make sure there hadn't been any brain damage." 

"When can I be discharged?" 

"Not for a while yet, but that's not going to make much difference." Scott told him, "You have the file, and the evidence reports. There's not much else that can be gathered, Laura already looked." 

"It'll have to do." Stiles sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Hey, think I could convince him to get a GPS tracking chip implanted in his--" 

"Don't. Finish that sentence. He's my baby brother." Laura interrupted, looking pained. 

"It'd probably help the him-having-gotten-kidnapped thing if there was ever a repeat." Scott commented. 

"Then you'll help me convince him?!" Stiles asked hopefully. 

"No, I like being alive. He'd kill me." Scott snorted. "You are on your own for that one." 

"Traitor." Stiles deadpanned, making grabby hands for the files Laura had hefted. She set them on his lap, pressing a button on his bed to make it sit him upright. "Isn't belladonna just a sedative?" 

"It's a poison if in too high a consentration." Scott told him, "And wolfsbane is toxic, too. You're lucky you're alive." 

"I will have him back before getting discharged from the hospital, because it's now tradition that we cuddle after I'm hospitalized." 

"And I'm once again overtaken by the urge to put you in a padded room." Stiles's dad sighed, shaking his head as he stood up and ducked to hug his son, "Love you, kid. No more hurting yourself." 

"Love you, too, Dad. I'll try." 

"Coffee?" 

"You're my favourite dad. I will love you forever." 

Snorting, the sheriff left to find caffeine, letting Laura and Scott turn on Stiles. "The wolfsbane is obvious--" 

"Belladonna wouldn't work on Derek, not for long. They needed the wolfsbane to let the belladonna take him out. I was just in the way." Stiles sighed again, scrubbing through his hair with a wince. "So they know what he is. That rules out some of his enemies, at least. He's won every case he's ever had, right?" 

"Oddly enough, since he usually tries to make your head blow up with his mind rather than argue with you." Laura grumbled. 

"I've seen that stare. Not for long, mind you." 

"I don't want to know." Scott and Laura chorused. 

"So Isaac did end up telling you?" Stiles asked Scott. 

"On my way out here. After Laura called him." Scott growled. "I can't--" 

"Scott, last time you got anywhere near one my cases, you almost shot off your own testicle." 

Laura's eyes went huge, laughter bursting from her helplessly, until she was almost crying with it. "I'm going to like you. I can tell."

"I'm likeable. It's a fact of nature." Stiles told her. "Scott, I love you like a brother, but you're a bit of a dollophead sometimes, and I was trying to make sure my new boyfriend, your new boyfriend, Lydia, Erica, and even Jackson weren't going to get killed. Not to mention me. And I failed keeping Mattie alive, but he was the one using Jackson to kill people, so I don't feel quite so bad about that." Stiles swallowed heavily, the weight of what had happened settling on his chest. "So hunters probably took Derek. I know the main players, but the Argents can't be the only hunters."

"With the way Kate killed out parents, it's become that way." Laura told him quietly, "Hunters sided with the Argents, or with us--and most hunters that sided with us were killed." 

"And if they'd sided with you, this wouldn't be retribution for bringing the Argents down in New York." Stiles worked out. "Laura, tell me he's still alive." Stiles's voice had gone quiet, high, his eyes wide and cheeks pale. 

Laura leaned forward, wrapping his hand in hers securely and staring into his eyes. She spoke with the absolute conviction of someone who had nothing to be scared of, and it made Stiles love her just a little bit, "He's still alive."


	3. Safe In LA

Isaac and Erica flanked Lydia on either side, marching down the corridor of the hospital like the furies themselves, faces set in masks of anger and worry as they burst through the door to Stiles's private room, Laura still sleeping on the chair beside the bed and Stiles and his father elbow-deep in the various evidence that had been collected from Stiles's crime scene and the abandoned (and shredded) limo. Lydia had Isaac shut and seal the door behind them, swinging her briefcase up on the bed beside Stiles's thigh. He didn't even glance up at her, smirking slyly behind his black-framed glasses. 

"I like the hipster look on you, Stiles. Much better than your usual." Erica commented, bending to peck a kiss on his cheek. 

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you not wearing a suit." Stiles told her, kissing her hand as she sat down in a chair Isaac set up behind her. "Scott's been sent to the hotel by the nurses. He was running himself a tad ragged, so they teamed up on him." Stiles told him, smiling warmly as Isaac bent to kiss Stiles's forehead. Lydia stole her kiss from the corner of his mouth, sitting beside his hip and plucking papers up from the bedspread. 

"Danny would like to talk to you." She told him quietly, not looking up from the papers. "He's...worried." 

"Danny's a CIA hacker, I'm sure he could probably be watching me via satellite every minute of every day." Stiles replied tightly, shifting on the bed, uncomfortable about the mention of his only previous boyfriend. 

Lydia's lips twitched, looking up to Stiles's eyes at last, "Why do you think he wants to talk to you?" She asked fondly.

Stiles groaned, covering his face with one long, eloquent hand. "We were together in high school, we haven't talked since the second year of college--" 

"And now you're with the most successful lawyer in the country, and you keep getting into trouble." Danny's voice finished for him, and Lydia turned the briefcase to face him, Danny's shy smile on the screen. "Hi, Stiles." 

Stiles cleared his throat, "Hi, Danny." 

"I'm sorry I kind of sprung this on you, but I thought you might like the brevity with your side of information. I've been told not to help you by the higher ups, related in a way that tells me that if I don't help you, the slightly-less higher ups will be very disappointed. Fuck them both: if this guy makes you happy, I'll do whatever I can to help you get him back." 

Stiles swallowed heavily, "Thanks, Danny." 

Danny grinned at him, "You'd do the same for me." 

Stiles coloured, "Yes, I would." He rallied, "Now, what've you got for us?" 

"I called in a favour with an old friend and had the perpetrators of your kidnapping double-checked, and it turns out that your report and the accounted-for list match but for one name. Gerard Argent." 

Stiles would have choked, but he couldn't summon it. "So the Argents pull back into the running." 

"It gets weirder. Lydia told me to keep an eye on Jackson, and he's disappeared off the grid. But there are two false identities that have been used to purchase plane tickets from New York to LA." 

"How do you know they're false?" 

"Because no one in this century has these names. I started keeping track of people named for saints after we watched that horrible Val Kilmer movie." 

"It would have been better with any other leading lady, but Elizabeth Shue isn't that bad." Stiles laughed. 

"I still don't know how you convinced him to date you, Stiles." Lydia huffed. 

"Don't be jealous, Lydia: it's not a good look on you." Danny snipped cheerfully. "Anyway, Stiles, I pulled up the passport photos, and they were a match to Jackson and Gerard. I have no idea what my idiot best friend is doing, but I'd be grateful if you could make sure he doesn't get himself killed." 

"I can try." Stiles told him heavily. "Can't promise you anything, though." 

"Yeah, no one ever can with him." Danny sighed. "Anyway: that's all I can tell you for certain. Probably changed aliases to get a hotel, it'd be the smart thing to do." 

"I wish I could say with any confidence that Gerard wouldn't be smart about this." Stiles muttered, his voice pained. "But where he's smart, he's also old." 

"He's won every time before: you think he'll get sloppy." Stiles's father filled in. 

"I hope he'll get sloppy. I love it when the bad guys do. Makes it so easy to catch them." Stiles sighed. "Derek's still alive, so Gerard would need somewhere to keep him isolated enough to make sure no one hears him." 

"I'll look for likely places." Danny told him, nodding. 

"Soundproofing is key." Erica said, "Isolation and soundproofing." Her eyes subtly flashed bronze, and Stiles nodded. 

"Both?" 

"Yeah. How much isolation are we really going to get here, Danny? This is LA." Stiles's laugh managed to sound convincing even to him, and Erica painted on a smile. 

"I'll see what I can magic up, angel eyes, ta ta for now." Danny clicked off, the look of a hacker surrounding himself with a search for a needle in a haystack taking over his features and making them disturbingly gleeful. 

"Now: Gerard Argent. Can you profile him? Is that legal?" Lydia asked, and Stiles shot her a look that clearly read she needn't put on the idiot act: they were out of high school. 

"The Argents are all insane." Stiles began, his breath rattling on a sigh as he forced himself to relax against the pillows, "You remember that one reading assignment in high school, The Great Game or whatever it was called? Gerard is much like that hunter: everything he's ever gone after, he's beaten. I fully intend on being the one clever bastard who wins. He'd view Derek as a prize; young, smart, strong, and directly connected to me. I'm hoping the evil comic book villain within will keep him from killing Derek, and if it does, it would mean he'd be torturing him, so I will not allow Derek to be in his clutches any longer than it takes to find them. He'll probably have set traps. I figure he doesn't actually see me as a threat or a worthy kill, so this won't be a game for me; he won't have left clues. I'm not as educated or as outwardly strong as Derek is, I'm not as much of a challenge, and for as much as I doubt he'd give Derek the chance to take advantage over him, I also think he'll draw it out, make him hurt, until Derek actually gives in and wants to die." 

Lydia covered Stiles's hand with her own, her green eyes shining with a promise she never needed to put to words. "You think he's done this before?" The Sheriff asked to be clear. 

"I all but know he has, Dad. I have no evidence, but if I did, he'd be nailed to the wall." 

The sheriff nodded, "I understand. So, what aren't you telling me?" He cocked his eyebrow, crossing his arms, "I know the DC-two step better than you do, kid, don't play around with me." Stiles wrinkled his features, groaning. "'Fess up." 

Stiles winced, "I wish I could, but it's not my secret to tell, and it's a dangerous thing to know." 

The Sheriff looked at his son for a long moment, then nodded, "I can accept that answer. For now." 

Stiles gave a small smile of thanks, his eyes drifting closed, "I'm a bit tired. Can I be alone for a bit?" 

Lydia dropped a kiss to his forehead, ghosting out of the room with the Sheriff in tow, offering to take him for coffee; Isaac went so far as to wrap Stiles in a hug, Erica sitting behind him to hug him at the same time, her head on his shoulder. 

Left alone, Stiles ached with being alone, even though it'd been what he wanted. Really he knew it was an ache for Derek. He felt small and insufficient and miserable, and Derek was the only one who'd make him feel better, he knew. 

Stiles closed his eyes and pictured it, like a dream, letting his mind just run. 

Derek would be lying with him, pressing gentle kisses onto Stiles's thin t-shirt as he palmed over Stiles's ribs, down his sides. If he saw Stiles like this, freaked out and needing, he'd run his hands over Stiles's collarbones, leaving tiny kisses all over Stiles's face until Stiles had to kiss him to get him to stop. 

If Derek were there, he'd sigh endearments and encouragements into Stiles's ear. That he was brilliant; that he could do this, simply because they were meant for each other. Stiles felt wet on his lashes, and swallowed thickly. 

He didn't hear Laura sneak in, but when she climbed into bed next to him, he roused. She hushed him gently, running her long fingers over his eyelashes to close them, sighing as she laid her head on his shoulder, "You and my brother are connected, Stiles. If anyone can find him, it's you." 

Stiles groaned as he threaded his arms around her, her smell just slightly sweeter, more feminine, than Derek's. "I'm going to need help." 

"You'll get more help than you need, Stiles. Derek couldn't have chosen a better mate." 

"Thank you." Stiles whispered, and she chuckled, "I'm actually really relieved that you approve." 

"I am, too, kid, believe me." She sighed. 

"Did you...About Kate: did you know?" 

"You mean about the two of them, or that she was dangerous? Yes, to both. I knew she was the wrong choice. I knew there was something wrong with her. I knew the bitch would hurt him. I just didn't think it'd be quite like that." Laura swallowed, "I did blame him, you know. When it first happen. That's why I never told him I knew. But when he came clean about it...I couldn't be mad at him anymore. He was broken, I could see it, and...he hadn't known. He hadn't known that she was wrong. That she was nuts and taking advantage of him. So I forgave him, I got him help, I made him forgive himself." 

"How?" 

"He was young and blinded. He knew she was set apart, he just put it down to her age. And the only reason I knew was because I was far enough away to realize." 

Stiles laid there for a long moment in silence. "I wish it'd never happened. He gets quiet sometimes, when I do something that makes him think of them, or you. I wanted to kill her, but Erica beat me to it. I wanted to know...why." 

"Because we're monsters, and she kills monsters." 

"You aren't, though. Surely, she must have seen that you aren't monsters at all. You're people. You're better people, even, than most people, because you fight this...thing that you've been born with that could make you a monster, and you win, when people can't even stop from being a monster themselves sometimes." 

Laura hugged him tight, kissing his forehead, "You're a damn good man, Stiles Stilinski. We'll find my brother, and you won't have to let him go again."


	4. Heavy Heart to Carry

Stiles was downing coffee like a writer as he pulled apart satellite photos and ground-information for the areas of interest. 

Somewhere under the piles of paper, Erica had zonked out; Laura sitting by the window, leaning on one hand and pretending not to be asleep more to herself than she was to him. Lydia was on the fifth coffee run of the night, and Isaac and Scott were out cold together on a chair at the other end of the room, Scott's head back and his snores like a bear's. If Stiles was less concerned with finding Derek, he might've stuck something in Scott's mouth like a proper brother. Stiles's hand flicked up to his face, adjusting his glasses absently as he reached for the remnants of Erica's last coffee, long gone cold. 

"You know, you might consider actually recovering while you're in recovery, Mr. Stilinski." A nurse commented disapprovingly, stepping gingerly in. A mound of paper flinched in its sleep, and Stiles made note of where Erica was. 

"No offence, but I'd recover much better with my boyfriend no-longer missing, sorry." Stiles smiled, totally distracted. 

"Derek Hale." The nurse said, and Stiles's head snapped up, his eyes gone wide. Red eyes were shining right back at him, and Stiles wanted to go for Laura instantly. "Wake her and you'll never find him, Mr. Stilinski." 

"Who the fuck are you?" Stiles ground out as if he was utterly done with the world if it insisted on keeping his Derek from him. 

Her groomed brows shot up, her features somewhere close to amused, "His mother. Talia." 

Stiles's mouth dropped open, and she was at his bedside in a milisecond, a cloth covering over his nose and mouth before he could do more than squeak, everything going black. 

When Stiles came slowly to, he was sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair; unbound, but it was a general understanding that he wasn't getting away easily. 

"So, let me get this straight: You fake your death, orphan your son and daughter with no other living family, let your son believe he killed you along with everyone else, and now you're kidnapping his mate. Tell me you're evil and not just crazy." Stiles mouthed off, uncaring. 

"Neither evil nor crazy, Mr. Stilinski. She does what I tell her to, or I kill what's left of her kin." 

"Oh, so you're working with the crazy, evil bastard that decided your family should burn. Yeah, no, that's not crazy or evil. Good job, Mrs. Hale." Stiles snarked, dark eyes burning. Gerard Argent lifted his hand to smack him across the face, and Stiles simply smirked. 

"I got you the boy; now you let Derek and Cora go." Talia's voice cut in, powerful and demanding. 

"Oh, no, my dear: Cora and you may leave, but Derek stays. He has a rabbit to hunt. I wasn't ready for you when I took him, he had to be driven out of his mind before I could add you to the mix. He'll hunt you down, boy, and kill you, and when he's done that, he's mine to kill for having harmed a human...even if you are a sorry excuse for one." Talia made a move for him, and Stiles snapped his eyes to her, Gerard labouring under the impression that she stopped dead for fear of him. "Two out of three isn't bad." 

Stiles turned his eyes to Gerard, blazing with anger and power. There was a roar from the darker reaches of the drafty room they were in, and Gerard flicked a switch, a high-powered spotlight coming on to the sight of Derek chained to the wall, an electro-shock patch embedded in his skin and his body covered in blood and sweat, sluggishly healing. Derek was roaring at Stiles, his eyes crazed, wrists chafed to bleeding in his struggle against the shackles binding them. 

"Just go." Stiles cut Talia off before she could say or do anything, final and absolute for as human and helpless as he was. She read something in his eyes, because after a moment she nodded, turned, and walked away, leaving Stiles to face Gerard alone. 

Derek's low, rumbling growl was the only other sound in the room, Stiles breathing steady and silent as Gerard watched him with laughing eyes. 

"Not that I'm not flattered, but you're not only too old: you're bug-fuck crazy, and that's really not my type." Stiles drawled at last, "Either get to the killing me, or let me go: this whole staring at me thing is making me feel dirty." Stiles crossed an ankle over his knee, perfectly at ease, "Oh, and, uh: skip the supervillain speech, if you please--I'd rather he tear me apart than die of boredom listening to a pompous, pudgy old bastard." 

The chair launched across the room as Stiles stood up, blocking the old man's blow and driving his fist upwards under his ribcage, stamping down hard on Gerard's foot and rearing forward in a head-butt that had the man stumbling back. Stiles darted past him, running for Derek. He made it about halfway there before there was a sharp pinch on the back of his neck, a familiar hissing coming from behind him. Stiles felt his hands go numb, his arms, everything, falling to Derek's feet in a paralyzed pile of unwieldy limbs, Jackson hissing behind him. 

"It'd be merciful to knock you out for this next part," Gerard hissed angrily, "but a wolf-fucker doesn't deserve mercy." 

Stiles grunted as Jackson lifted him, carrying him towards a pine box. "Lydia and Danny are worried about you, Jackson." He murmured quietly. "Find your way back to them, will you?" 

Jackson dropped him into the box, Gerard bending over it, taking Stiles's limp hands and cuffing them. He lifted the lid of the coffin, nailing it shut with Stiles glaring at him all the while. 

Stiles closed his eyes, listening while he tried to calm himself as he was taken out of the structure he'd been in and was buried. He knew he needed to conserve his oxygen, and that Derek was an unknown variable even with the faith that Stiles had in him. He knew Derek would find him, struggling to keep his breathing even as he closed his eyes from the pitch-blackness and waited.


	5. How Am I Gonna Get Myself Back Home?

"I don't particularly want to be dead." Stiles murmured quietly, distant in shock. 

"Just because I'm dead, dear; it does not mean you are." His mother laughed, pulling her fingers through his hair. 

She had flowers braided into the long, French plait draped down one shoulder, her dark eyes lovely as ever. The soft flush on her cheeks was perfect against pale skin. 

"I've missed you, little one. I love you." She pressed her lips to his forehead, brushing over his shoulders, "Now: what's got you so close to death's door as to be seeing me?" 

Stiles sat down at the kitchen table he remembered from his childhood; white lilies in the heavy crystal vase he'd buried in the topmost cupboard. He'd had to utilize one of these very chairs, a stack of phone books, and the cupboard below as a ladder to reach it after she'd died. He'd nearly broken his arm when he fell down again, but it was safe, stowed away, where the sight of it wouldn't make his dad cry anymore. He told his mother everything in a deluge that felt like a slow leak deflating him. She'd made tea in the old china set of her great-aunt's, the one that his dad had packed away in the basement with her pottery and chimes. 

He sipped the familiar brew, and let it take him back for a long moment, savouring it. "I like the sound of this boy. He'll be good for you." She murmured with a smile that made his chest ache. "Hunters have always been in the way, though; and they always will be if men like this Gerard character have their bitter, old way. But you, Stiles: you're something new. You'll bring newness with you. Don't be afraid to walk in your father's world as well as mine." She swept over to the low bookshelf on silent feet, bending to pull an ancient, worn book from the collection Stiles had barely been able to touch since she'd passed, "Do you remember this? I used to read stories to you every night. Your father and I loved each other dearly, but we walked in two different worlds. He was never one for magic; never one to wonder. If he had a question, he'd charge at it head-on until he had an answer that satisfied him. But I believe part of the reason why he chose me was because he could never be satisfied by any answer he could come up with to the question of me. You were made to walk in both worlds: to know the answers to things that can't ever really be explained. It's why you're so smart." 

"Walk in both worlds?" 

"You have a talent for miraculous saves; you can tell when someone's lying to you; and you know things before you're ever told them. It's a gift passed on from my side of the family." Her hands were soft and warm as they closed around his, just as strong as when he was little and needed protection from the dark. "Your insatiable curiosity, you get from your father, though." 

"I'm scared to tell dad..." 

His mother leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "Your father is a smart man, Stiles. Practical. And because he's practical, you're smart not to tell him." 

Stiles nodded in a quick jerk of his head, his heart sinking as his mother looked away, towards the door. 

"It's time for you to go, my love. Thank you...for everything." She wrapped her arms around him, and Stiles knew he had tears running down his cheeks for the pain of letting her go all over again. "I love you, Stiles. My beautiful, brave boy." 

"I love you, too, mama." He whispered back, opening his eyes to the darkness of the coffin he'd been buried alive in. He found he could finally move from the paralysis, slamming his hands up against the lid as hard as he could, trying to keep his breathing even enough. 

It was getting wet in the coffin, the storm unrelenting, and before Stiles's eyes, the water lit up silver, casting light through the coffin to the weaknesses it slid through: helping him fight.


	6. Stuck Between the Dead and the Living

It was pouring rain in Beacon Hills. The overwhelming scent of mud and rain; the pounding impact of raindrops, it was enough to nearly lose the trail. 

Derek's mind was buzzing with the cocktail of wolfsbane and drugs Gerard had shot into him; driving him nearly feral as he tortured him over and over. If Derek hadn't been a mated Alpha, Gerard might've succeeded in driving him out of his mind. But Stiles; his scent, his heartbeat, his voice and presence, was not something Derek could easily lose the shape of. 

Derek's talons shredded a wound into the world, tearing at the ground like he would Gerard soon enough. He could hear the half-panicked breathing beneath his hands, the stutter of Stiles's heartbeat. He'd made it here in time. He could save his mate. 

Derek punched through the top of the rough-pine box, his hand closing around the chain linking Stiles's wrists and pulling, mindless but for getting Stiles into his arms as soon as he damn well could. Stiles came through the ground, coughing and gasping as he spiralled into a panic attack, and Derek dragged him close, tucking Stiles's face against his neck and purring, his hands roaming desperately to check for injury. 

There was a cry of rage, and the sound of a gun being cocked. Derek let the roar rattle up through his chest, bursting from his throat loud enough to shake the world. Stiles's fingers curled against Derek's bare and blood-stained back, his head turning to the sound although his human senses shouldn't have heard it. 

Stiles tensed and rolled out of Derek's arms just as the shot was fired, throwing up a clod of dirt just where Derek had been; the wolf tearing the rest of the way through from the man, teeth bared in a fearsome snarl. 

Gerard had been knocked back in shock by the charge, but his gun was still in his hands, and his hands were still steady enough to re-cock it. 

Stiles was crouched by a gravestone, silent and waiting. Derek let out a snarl, and Stiles launched himself out from behind the safety, kicking out at Gerard's arm and cracking his knee into the side of the old man's head, effectively ending Argent's grip on his gun. Stiles ducked down as Derek pounced, Gerard rolling so that the snarling mass of storm-grey fur was against the sopping ground. Stiles aimed and fired into Gerard's back without a second's hesitation, panting as he fell to his knees, Derek halfway between man and wolf as he used his legs to toss the body away. Derek's slavering mouth snapped shut before he rolled to his feet, the last of the shift leaving Derek naked, muddy, and blood-spattered, panting as he stared at Stiles with bright crimson eyes. Derek stepped shakily towards him, falling to his knees in front of him and collapsing into Stiles's arms, rain clearing trails from Derek's dirty skin. Stiles sobbed softly, clinging to him. It made Derek's arms close tighter around him, growling softly because he wasn't able to form words yet. Stiles sobbed a laugh, shaking his head as he pressed into Derek's space. 

Derek closed his eyes, rumbling. There were footfalls coming towards them, Laura's soft snarls easing his tension. He grunted as she fell to her knees beside them, reaching out with a shaking hand to brush Derek's hair. 

"Your mother..." Stiles choked out, "she was the one that kidnapped me. Talia." Derek had all but frozen in his arms, Laura's breath catching as her eyes went wide. "She...she said she did it so that Gerard would let Derek, Cora and her go." 

"Cora's our baby sister." Laura swallowed thickly, blinking. She looked at Derek, who jerked a nod, and licked her lips, gathering herself up. "C'mon." She helped Derek and Stiles up, the both of them unwilling to let go of each other and unsteady on their feet. Lightning caught the red in her eyes as she looked at the grave Stiles had been buried above, and Stiles's heart skipped a beat for the pain: it was his mother's. 

"I don't want to explain this to anyone." Stiles grit out. 

"We do have a pine box." Laura commented, "Erica and I will take care of it." 

"Not near her." Stiles rattled, the rage barely contained. 

"No where near her, Stiles." Laura assured, her hand on her brother's back as he hunched slightly to be closer to his mate. "Let's get you two somewhere safe to clean off and get warm." 

"My dad..." 

"Thinks you've run off to solve the whole thing by yourself."

Stiles groaned, "He's going to give me hell for that." 

Laura barked a laugh, "Uncle Peter would've loved you, Stiles, really." 

Derek let out a small huff, pulling Stiles into him tighter, and Stiles patted him on the head, "I know, sourwolf. You're not carrying me right now, but when we get to a bed, you can be as close as you want." Stiles rubbed his thumb over the shell of Derek's ear, and the wolf purred again, closing his eyes and pushing into the touch happily. 

"How do we get rid of the questions?" 

"Derek won't let anyone but me see him naked for a while." Stiles shrugged easily, "He was tortured, but he doesn't need to submit to being checked over, not really." 

"You're going to have to give off the appearance of arguing about that." 

"Yeah, I know. It'll be okay." Stiles murmured softly, rubbing his hands through Derek's hair. 

There was a blanket waiting for him with Erica attached to it, her eyes desperate as she looked over the both of them. Stiles was still caked with mud and now blood from Derek, and Derek was about two-hundred percent worse, but when he smiled softly at her, she seemed to deflate in relief, tears running down her cheeks. She even went so far as to flit into Stiles's arms, hugging tight, "I should have sensed it...I should have known...I should have killed the bitch." 

Stiles raised his hand to stem the flow of regret, shaking his head with a fond smile, "It's okay, E." He whispered, hugging her softly. Isaac appeared from the driver's side of the big SUV, helping Derek into the back before hugging Stiles hard. "I'm okay. Nothing a shower and a day in bed with Derek won't fix." 

"I don't want to know your personal philosophy on life, Stiles, just that you're in one piece." Lydia teased, bringing him in, too. 

Stiles climbed into the back with Derek, wrapping him up in his arms and putting his head under Stiles's chin, "I love you." He whispered, working his long, thin fingers through Derek's hair. He pressed kisses to his hairline, breathing him in. "I love you so much, Derek. You're going to have to marry me soon. Like, tomorrow." Stiles smiled into Derek's hair, breathing the words, "As soon as you can talk enough to say 'I do'; which, considering you talk for a living, needs to be soon, huh? Not that you particularly like talking, but you do need those two words for me." 

Derek reached up, kissing him, his fingers trailing down from his jaw to his collarbone. Stiles hummed, sucking his tongue and pulling him closer, Stiles's legs over his lap. 

"Boys, do not even think about having sex in my car!" Laura threatened. 

Stiles snickered into the kiss, breaking slowly off and nuzzling in to share air instead. He closed his eyes, enjoying the nearness of the love of his life. 

They snuck into the apartment Laura had picked out for Derek and Stiles, moving as quietly as possible so that they didn't make a scene with the neighbours. "Laura...thank you." Stiles breathed, letting her have a hug before he shut and locked every lock the door had. 

He fell into Derek's side right there in the foyer of the dark apartment, breathing him in and clinging to him with both hands. Slowly he convinced his muscles to move; only to throw away the blanket and rub over Derek's skin, kneading his back as he let whimpers climb to his lips at all the blood he knew Gerard had taken. Derek growled lowly in answer, gripping the backs of Stiles's thighs and lifting, wrapping Stiles's legs around his waist as if it was nothing, raising his head to Stiles as if basking in his glow. Stiles whined in the back of his throat, licking into Derek's mouth and closing his eyes tight shut so he couldn't see that look. 

Derek gripped his legs, hands like brands through the damp sleep pants. Stiles broke off, gasping and light-headed, letting his head drop back to give Derek full access to his throat, thighs squeezing around Derek's waist. Derek bit into the base of Stiles's neck with blunt teeth, sucking a bruise into his throat hard. They weren't about to make it to the bed; Derek falling to his knees on the hard wood, hands sliding up Stiles's wet shirt. Stiles shifted and shimmied, letting Derek pull off his shirt and returning his hands to Derek's skin desperately. 

Kicking his jeans off, Stiles wrapped one leg around Derek's, leveraging him over onto his back and putting his weight on his hands on either side of Derek's head, grinning wildly. Stiles leaned down, kissing over Derek's collarbone, down his pectoral until he could pull his nipple between Stiles's teeth. Derek hissed, bucking, his head rolling to one side to let Stiles at his own neck. Stiles bit along the tendons in his neck, licking the shell of his ear when he got there. Stiles wrapped his hand around them both, rolling his thumb around Derek's head to smear the precum down his shaft. Derek flashed red eyes, and Stiles gasped; biting down on a groan. Derek's hands ran up Stiles's thighs, his fingers making dimples down Stiles's ass as he dragged his fingers over the pale skin. Stiles sucked Derek's tongue into his mouth instead of crying out, biting lightly on the muscle. Derek reared up, and Stiles let him, his long legs unfurling back down as Derek went so far as to take them to their feet. Stiles took Derek's wrist, pulling him along in the dark and hoping for the bedroom. He had no idea if there'd be anything of use in the bedroom: doubted Laura would buy her little brother and his boyfriend lube to put in it, or even sheets to put on the bed, but Stiles didn't care. 

Tumbling into the bed, Stiles pulled Derek eagerly on top of him. Derek boxed him in, bringing their mouths together in a harsh kiss. Stiles tugged on his hair, sliding his legs around Derek's hips and pulling himself up with that grip, laughing softly because he'd been trying to pull Derek down. Derek nipped up a pinch of skin on Stiles's neck, and Stiles cried out openly at that, his heels digging into Derek's lower back. Derek dragged his blunt nails down Stiles's back, making him arch up against him tight, Stiles pulling his mouth back to Derek's and kissing like it would kill him to let go. Derek seemed to agree, barely letting Stiles break to breathe as he plundered Stiles's moans over and over, leaving it red and bruising when Stiles writhed at Derek's fingers brushing between his cheek, teasing at his rim. Derek didn't let him go for long, devouring it as Stiles yelled out and came from nothing more, lost in relief and lust and breathless heat between them. Derek groaned, sliding his finger in further as Stiles pulsed through an orgasm that honestly surprised him, barely moving but driving Stiles higher and higher just by being there. "D-Derek..." Stiles knew Derek was still hard, unconcerned with himself even as lost as he was. Stiles struggled, pushing Derek over with strength he wouldn't have thought himself capable of. Derek looked up at him with blown eyes, frozen against the bedspread, just waiting. Stiles leaned down, kissing him breathless before he kissed his way down Derek's body, licking along the bottom of his ribs and leaving soft bites along Derek's hipbone. Stiles reached his cock, licking up his shaft and sinking down on it, sparks of pleasure still firing through him from his own orgasm as he worked for Derek's. Derek moaned loud, hand tangling in Stiles's hair as he writhed and twitched in pleasure. Stiles moaned around him as Derek thickened on his tongue, his knot forming. Stiles pulled off with a lewd pop, wrapping his hand around Derek's cock, working him until the knot fully formed, sucking at the bulge, moving up to the head and sucking him down as he came, Derek's claws tearing into the mattress beneath him. 

Stiles pulled off once Derek was done, wrapping his hand around the knot, straightening out and kissing along Derek's jaw to his lips. Over and over, Stiles pressed closed, chaste kisses to Derek's mouth until he finally came down enough to catch Stiles and get him into a real kiss. Derek's big hand came up, warm against Stiles's skin as he brushed his thumb along Stiles's jaw, holding him close enough to kiss with that one gentle touch. 

Stiles didn't know when the kisses turned sleepier and sleepier, until it got to the point that he woke up to chapped, whisker-framed lips slowly drifting down his shoulder. "Derek?" 

Derek's nose drifted across his back, "I love you so much." Derek framed one arm around him, dragging him under Derek's chest. "Stiles..." 

Stiles shivered back into him, pulling Derek's arms as tightly around him as he could. "I love you. God, don't let me go." 

"I won't." Derek assured him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" 

"I already know you you know the answer to that." Stiles teased, knocking back into him. Derek smiled against his shoulder, "What about you? Are you okay?" 

"I'm healed. I'm with you. Everything is better now." Stiles bent his head, kissing Derek's fingers. "I'm okay." 

"Don't let me go. Please, don't let me go." 

"I won't, Stiles. I won't. I'm right here." Derek moved his legs, framing Stiles with those, too, wrapping him up tight. Stiles turned his head, breathing deep against crying. Derek hushed him gently, kissing along Stiles's shoulder. He nuzzled into the hair over Stiles's ear, grinning around tears of his own as he whispered, "Hey, Stiles?...I do."


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, there were shopping bags just in the front door: a note from Laura attached to the newly-bought necessities to replace the ones still being kept in evidence. ' _You two are not needed for the next two days: Sheriff Stilinski has been told that you're safe, and together. He doesn't like that you've disappeared, but he could hardly say no. Be good. Stay safe._ '

Stiles was grinning wildly with his chin on Derek's shoulder. "Let's go fuck until we can't walk." 

Pecking a kiss to Derek's cheek, Stiles scampered away, laughing as Derek chased him. Stiles screamed as Derek seized him, sweeping him off his feet. "We can't." He whispered. "No lube." 

Stiles groaned, his head dropping back against Derek's shoulder, "I hate the world!" He whined. Derek chuckled, smothering his grin against Stiles's skin. Stiles moved back against him, humming as he reached back to weave his hand through Derek's hair. Stiles leaned his head back, licking into Derek's mouth and moaning as Derek snarled into him. Derek turned him around, picking him up off the floor and lifting him against his chest, carrying him blindly until they hit a wall. Stiles cried out as Derek rutted against his ass; the head of his cock catching against Stiles's hole and Stiles's front ground into Derek's taut stomach. "Oh...just like this...fuck--just like this..." he panted, dropping his head back with a thunk and moaning high. Derek slid one hand down, curving against his ass and resting his blunt fingers just at Stiles's hole as he rutted hard between Stiles's cheeks, his cock leaking as Stiles hummed and struggled for leverage to move against him. 

Derek carried him to the couch, and Stiles wiggled out of his grip, turning on all fours and pulling Derek forward, fitting him between his thighs. Derek set his teeth to the back of Stiles's neck, reaching around him to fist Stiles's cock, pumping slow and tight to make Stiles's nails pierce into the leather and scream. Derek groaned into his shoulder, kissing his skin. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Derek murmured, his hips moving with every sentence. Stiles cried out, pulling his hand up and reaching behind Derek's neck, holding on with one hand and trying to keep himself up on the couch with the other. Stiles screamed as he came with Derek's teeth in his neck, Derek coming a moment later, shuddering as his hand slid to Stiles's lower abdomen, holding him up as Stiles moaned it out. 

They collapsed onto the leather, skin sticking to it and each other, and Stiles tucked himself into Derek like he was all the security Stiles would ever need. "I love you, too. I'm going to marry you. I'm already yours." 

Derek licked along the back of Stiles's neck, holding him tight as he shuddered. Derek covered Stiles with his body as much as he could, the sweat of their skin gluing them together. "I'm yours, too." Stiles pressed kisses along Derek's hand, "I'll go get what we need once you fall asleep..." Derek whispered. 

"Mmm, no. 'll come." 

Derek smiled, "No, you won't. Sleep, Stiles. You think I don't know you haven't?" 

"You've been being tortured." Stiles protested. "You think I'm going to let you exert _any_ energy?"

Derek laughed, his breath shivering over Stiles's skin. "I heal better than you do, Stiles." 

"I don't care." Stiles drawled, "not even a little." 

Stiles struggled so feebly it was ridiculous, groaning as Derek just held him tight and made him sleep. Derek smiled as he slid his arms around Stiles, carrying him to the bed. "I'll make you some coffee later." Derek kissed his shoulder, searching until he found a blanket and curling up behind him under it to warm him up and keep him warm. Hours later, Derek woke to a cup of coffee steaming on the bedside table, a note from Stiles on the pillow beside him. 

_You'll be up by the time I shut the front door and we both know it, but instead of chasing my hot little ass out of here, turn over and go back to sleep._ Pulling the paper under his nose, Derek breathed in the hint of Stiles's scent on the page, closing his eyes and letting himself bathe in the scent until he felt at ease. 

He took the cup of coffee, drinking slowly as he took stock of what he heard and what he sensed in the apartment. It wasn't pressing in on him, as the noise of New York in Stiles's dinky apartment did. It didn't smell of them yet; Stiles's scent wasn't there yet, and Derek was almost eager to fill the empty rooms with traces of them both. Slipping out of the room, Derek padded to the mess of the living room, their scents clashing against the hard smell of cleaner. Stiles had cleaned up the couch, and Derek groaned slightly, moving into the bathroom and finding clothes awaiting him on the counter; a note on top of them with Stiles's smell lingering in the fabric. Derek turned on the water, easing himself into it and taking stock of himself. He was healed; he'd slept. He might not have been able to say he was relaxed or at ease; but it was marked improvement of the state he'd been in. He missed the small sounds of Stiles creeping in, but when Stiles sighed at the sight of the empty bed, he zeroed his senses in on his mate; on the rustle as Stiles set things down and moved through the room, on the whip of Stiles unfolding a set of sheets and the clunking of getting the washer set up to clean them. Stiles opened the door to the bathroom just as Derek turned the water off and got out, his dark eyes appreciative as he watched Derek emerge from the cloud of steam. Derek forewent the towel in order to stride over to Stiles and kiss him as hard and deep as he could, Stiles's hands scrabbling and finding purchase against Derek's slick skin. 

"I love it when you taste like coffee." Stiles murmured, pressing their foreheads together and tugging gently at Derek's earlobe. "C'mon." He took Derek's hand in his; Derek's broad and thick but really no larger than Stiles's, just blunter instruments held in more delicate and precise tools. Stiles had acquired a throw blanket, and he pushed Derek down onto the soft material on the couch, sitting by Derek's legs and just looking at him with dark, all-consuming eyes. Derek took Stiles's hand, pressing it to his skin and sighing as Stiles let himself touch at last, feeling along bones and skin with desperation and anger climbing in his scent, flashes of the things Derek had went through running through his head as his fingers trailed the skin that should be ravaged. "Once I make the bed, I'm not letting you out of it." 

Derek's lips quirked, his eyes crinkling, "I'd expect nothing less." 

Stiles bowed his head down, kissing Derek's chest and moving to suck one of his nipples into his mouth. Derek inhaled sharply, his hand curling around the back of Stiles's neck. Stiles clambered over, holding himself up over Derek's body, kissing him until Derek's toes curled, a happy growl in the back of his throat. Stiles knelt back, tearing at his new clothes to get skin against Derek's. Derek helped clumsily, pulling Stiles against his chest once his clothes were loose enough to be pushed aside. Stiles fell against Derek's chest, closing his eyes against Derek's neck, the drag of his lashes tickling Derek's skin. "We need to not be targets for this kind of shit anymore." Stiles muttered. "I don't care about me, Derek; I'll give up the force if you want me to, but you're in so much danger..." 

"It's not what I do, Stiles; it's who I am." Derek sighed sadly, rubbing Stiles's side and pressing him in closer. "I love you so much, and I don't want to hurt you--" 

"Come away with me. Somewhere where the Argents won't find you; somewhere you can be safe to live freely. I'll stop being a cop." 

Derek took Stiles's head in his hands, raising him up from under his chin and pressing kisses into Stiles's skin until Stiles couldn't get a word out, stealing kisses back as much as he could under the barrage. They laid there on the couch kissing for a long time, kept warm by each other in the dark apartment. Stiles breathed Derek into him like he had a wolf that needed the reassurance that his mate was really there. Derek shifted, pressing his lips into Stiles's forehead solidly, "You can't stop being a cop, Stiles, but I can stop being a lawyer. I will for you. And I'll run the Argents out of this town. For good. A client of mine owes me a favour."

Stiles sighed, "You...help people. I shouldn't..." 

Derek pressed his hand flat against Stiles's lower back, hugging, "You're not asking, Stiles; I'm telling you." 

"We need to find your mom and your sister, Derek." 

"Laura will do that." Derek muttered tightly. 

"Derek?" Stiles didn't go so far as to pull away, but it was in his voice that Derek needed to say something. 

"I can't." Derek croaked out.

"Okay." Stiles hushed, "Derek, it's okay." Long fingers scritched through Derek's hair, and he moaned quietly. "You're okay, Derek. Close your eyes. Breathe." 

"They're dead, Stiles. They've been dead for years. Why--" 

"Derek, shh..." Stiles brushed his thumb over Derek's mouth, pressing loose kisses to his neck, "it's just you and me here now, Derek. Just us. nothing else matters. Breathe. Nothing else matters. Feel, Derek. Breathe with me; let your heart beat with mine." 

Stiles had Derek's hand pressed to his chest, over his heart, and Derek clung on to him, focusing everything he had onto Stiles and his voice to do what Stiles asked him to. He'd do anything Stiles asked him to after all they'd been through. Stiles caressed over Derek's skin, kissing his jaw and brushing his fingertips over Derek's eyebrow. Derek took a deep breath, centring himself. "How did you do that?" 

"Used to have panic attacks." Stiles pressed kisses to Derek's chest. "Never had someone like you to help me through them, though." 

Stiles shifted, pulling Derek into his chest and brushing his fingers through the hair over Derek's ear, pressing kisses to his forehead. Derek hummed, closing his eyes with his ear over Stiles's heart. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize, Derek. I love you." Derek's arm tucked around Stiles's middle, relaxing against him in a delicious roll of muscle. "We're going to go to bed and we're going to see if pizza will deliver through a bedroom window." Stiles grinned, "I will not be letting go of you long enough to even cook." 

"We do need to..." 

Stiles angled Derek's head up, pressing his lips to Derek's over and over. "No, you don't. Laura and I will find them, babe. I need you to run the hunters out of this town." 

"Stiles--" 

"No. Babe, if I found out that my mom was still alive...Just. Let me take care of this. Let me take care of you." Stiles insisted, voice low and rough. "Deal?" 

Derek sighed, the two of them dozing together on the couch until the dryer shrilled out that the load was finished. Stiles pulled him close once they'd made the bed, kissing him slowly with roaming hands. Stiles sighed as he arched his neck back for Derek, swallowing as Derek bit along the line of his neck slowly, marking him. Derek nuzzled the soft skin of his throat, letting his beard rub Stiles's neck red; making Stiles twitch and moan beneath him. Derek chuckled, sending Stiles into gooseflesh as he looked down at Derek from under fluttering dark lashes. Licking into his mouth, Derek reached down Stiles's lean body, curling a hot hand around Stiles's cock. Stiles framed Derek's shoulders with his shaking hands, pulling desperately to have him closer. Derek pulled away after a long moment, looking at the red in Stiles's cheeks; searching shortly for the new tube of lube Stiles had stashed away when he'd come home. 

Stiles opened his legs for Derek, biting his lip and breathing deep, his chest heaving. Derek's hot hand ran down the inside of Stiles's thigh, skimming down over the hot skin of where Stiles's leg met his groin, brushing blunt fingers over the crack of his ass. Bringing Stiles's legs up to hitch over his shoulders, Derek brushed gentle hands over Stiles's skin, uncapping the tube and rubbing the cold lube between his fingers to warm it. Stiles let out a small cry at the first breach of Derek's finger inside him, his pulse hard and fast. Concern shone in Derek's eyes as Stiles whimpered beneath him; his movements hesitant. "No, Derek. Nothing is wrong. I just...I can't stop how relieved I feel for you to be here." Stiles brushed back a lock of Derek's hair, his fingers trailing down Derek's cheek to brush at the side of his mouth.

Derek turned his head, catching Stiles's hand and turning his head to kiss his fingertips. Derek worked his fingers into Stiles slowly and carefully, watching his back bend as his head fell back. "I'm safe with you." Derek whispered, shrugging Stiles's legs down and urging them around his waist. He bent down and kissed Stiles silent as he twisted his finger and found the perfect angle. 

"Stop...just...just fuck me." Stiles demanded. "Please, just fuck me. I want you, right now." 

"Stiles--" 

"Derek, I need you right now. Don't care if it hurts." Stiles begged, the sound too painful for Derek to say no to. 

Derek pulled him as close as possible, mouthing at his skin. Derek whined in the back of his throat as he let Stiles pull him in. Stiles pressed his face under Derek's jaw, kissing at his jugular as he breathed harshly. Derek's fingers trailed around the stretched skin where they met, looking for an injury, but Stiles cried out to the ceiling, his body rolling against Derek's, pulling him in further as his eyes fluttered in pleasure, the pain in his scent overrun. "Stiles," Derek breathed, watching his lover. Derek gently removed Stiles's hand from clinging to the back of his neck, pressing his arm down against the bed and sitting up, pushing himself as deep as he could into the tight heat, Stiles crying out and humming in appreciation as he bucked against Derek's hips. "Talk to me, Stiles. Tell me what you need." 

Stiles's mouth opened and closed, his chest moving in heaving waves, "I need you...I-I need to you deeper." Stiles's muscles tightened impossibly around him, and Derek nearly choked, reaching down with clumsy hands for Stiles's thighs and bringing them up over his shoulders. Stiles's hands closed tight in the bedclothes, moaning breathlessly. "Move. Move, Derek, fuck..." 

Derek did what he was told, careful at first, until Stiles's dark, blown eyes met his, looking hell-bent and unforgiving. Derek took it as the order it was meant to be, picking up the pace until he was all but pounding into Stiles. "Stiles..." 

"It's good, Derek...'s so fucking good..." 

Derek threw himself into the dizzying need of it, letting the wilder parts of himself take and take; letting those parts be filled with the gasps and pants of his mate. It wasn't what Derek wanted, but Stiles had known it was what he needed; fast and hard and life-affirming in a way that the slow, sleepy sex he'd craved wouldn't have convinced him of. But Stiles, clawing at his back with blunt fingertips and crying out to the ceiling with the tight curl of pleasure building low in his gut, was anything but a dream in that moment; too wild by half himself. 

Stiles gave him what he needed first, and what he wanted second; the afterglow slow and sweet as Stiles pulled him in and wrapped his long, ungainly limbs around Derek as much as possible, the both of them still breathless from coming. 

Pressing into Derek's galloping heart, Stiles sighed through the wave of relieved exhaustion sweeping over him. "Are you--"

"I'm better than fine, sourwolf. I kind of wish I was about a year younger, though." 

"What?" 

"Remember the first time you and I were together after becoming a couple? You made me come so many times I passed out? I want to ride you until I pass out again, but I don't know if I can summon the energy necessary for getting hard." 

"We have days--" Derek started on a laugh. Stiles covered the curve of Derek's smile with his mouth, though, and Derek's hand ran up the plain of Stiles's back, keeping him in the kiss with nothing more than that soft touch. 

"Not enough days." Stiles protested into Derek's mouth, his teeth around Derek's lip as he pushed him fully onto his back and climbed over onto his hips. Derek groaned as Stiles reached one hand down, curling it around him. Derek drew in a shaking breath, knowing that he could very well get hard again just that quickly. Stiles sucked a kiss over Derek's heart, getting him hard with slow, lazy strokes and sinking backwards onto him despite the tight ache of unfulfilled arousal. Derek growled deep in his throat, his fingers curling just above the hill of Stiles's ass. Stiles wove one hand through Derek's hair, getting a grip and pulling Derek's head back so that he could kiss him, hot and loose and slick as the muscles surrounding Derek fluttered, tight heat driving him wild. "We're gonna go slow this time. So you can knot me, can fuck me wide open and bursting with cum. I want it all, Derek. Everything you've got to give. God, I want you to fuck me 'til I'm bred." Stiles pinched Derek's nipple, his eyes burning, and Derek couldn't help moving his hips up into the slow languid motion Stiles had started riding his cock with. 

"Stiles--" Derek choked out, gripping Stiles's hips as the instinct in him flared, wanting to fuck his mate until the wolf had pups, even for as much as he knew that couldn't happen. Hearing Stiles say the words turned him hotter than he could stand, making his skin tight. Stiles gripped himself tighter around Derek's dick, riding in hot little jerks as Derek fought back the urge to fling him onto his back and simply pound. 

"I liked fucking you...but this," Stiles's fingers dimpled in Derek's skin as he dragged his fingertips over Derek's chest, "feels so fucking good, Derek. I love how good you make me feel. Better than anyone ever has." 

"You're mine." Derek ground out, "No one will ever make you feel this good." 

Stiles moaned, spreading out over Derek to kiss the words from his mouth, nodding hazily. "Please, let me fuck you." Derek begged, the slow roll of Stiles's hips driving him crazy. 

"You're mine," Stiles purred, smirking, "you're going to lay there and take it." 

Derek whimpered as Stiles curled his tongue around Derek's jaw, the stubble scratching his tongue. Derek gripped his hips, moaning as Stiles wrapped those long hands around his jaw and neck. Stiles's hips stuttered as the backs of Derek's fingers rubbed down Stiles's lower back, teasing his fingertips to where they met. Stiles moaned shakily, then laughed, tipping his head back. Derek choked as Stiles's hole twitched and tightened around him in fluttery little motions. 

Derek looked broken, but Stiles didn't tell him off at all, just continued, slow and maddeningly deep as Stiles's cock began to stir between them. Derek bit back a curse, reaching down to wrap a hand around Stiles's dick. He jerked, his smile dark and devious. 

"I want to blow you." Derek panted. "Fuck you until you can't come and then feel you burst on my tongue." 

Stiles cried out, swearing and shaking. "Fuck, yes." 

Derek choked as Stiles bit his lower lip, one hand playing down his chest, tugging lightly on his chest hair until his fingers found Derek's nipple, pinching. Derek bucked up hard, nearly throwing Stiles off. He didn't throw him off at all, though; Stiles was absolutely seated on Derek's cock, and with a last squeeze of Stiles around him, Derek was coming, his cock pulsing and growing, the knot stretching Stiles open even more than the rough fucking had before. Stiles moaned heartily, grinning as he tugged Derek's chest hair again, pulling him up and kissing him hot and hard. Derek groaned into his mouth, wrapping his hand around Stiles's cock and jerking him off with Stiles's tongue in his mouth. Derek groaned as he wrapped around Stiles, tipping them over sideways and laying out over Stiles, settling against Stiles as his arms and legs wrapped around Derek's back. "I love you." 

"I love you, too." Stiles whispered, kissing over Derek's features. Derek and he started laughing, kissing loosely, sloppy, and he tugged his fingers through Derek's jet hair. "I'll have to get us some rings." 

"No need," Derek murmured, resting his chin against Stiles's shoulder, "found some while you were laid up after the hunters. Worked for us, I thought, so I bought them to have ready." 

Derek rubbed Stiles's tummy, kissing the notch of bone between Stiles's pectorals. "You...I want to call you a total sap, but I also want to yell at you for not letting me buy you the rings: there are serious financial differences, Derek, we gotta talk about this." 

"Stiles...I don't need the money I have. The money is _yours_ , and it always has been. The money has always been for my mate. I don't have a long life-expectancy." Stiles growled nastily, eyes flashing with rage. "I don't, you should know that by now. How many times have I almost died since you've known me?" 

"Too fucking many." Stiles groaned. 

"The money is for you, Stiles; let me give you the things you need and want. Let me take care of you." 

"I want to take care of you, too, sourwolf." 

Derek looked at him, one eyebrow raising over his near-scowl. He reached down, brushing the pads of his fingers around the stretch of Stiles's hole. Stiles hissed, tensing and digging his blunt nails into Derek's shoulders. 

"Sex...doesn't...count!" 

"Oh? Why not?" Derek asked innocently, kissing over Stiles's collarbone. 

"Because you fuck me good enough to ooze my brain out of my head." 

"Stiles," he looked pointedly at his lover, putting one hand on his hips and shifted his hips, the knot shifting in his ass. Stiles cried out, but it wasn't in pain. 

Stiles's breathing was shaky, his eyes at half-mast and his fingers trembling against Derek's shoulders. Derek licked Stiles's neck, biting down on his pale skin. Stiles's arousal spiked through his scent, and Derek let himself work into getting hard again, the knot loosening until he'd be able to fuck into Stiles again. Stiles was breathless, eyes closed, his mouth hanging open and lips bitten red, slick. He started nodding desperately, pulling on Derek to get him to fuck him faster. 

"Don't want to hurt you..." Derek groaned. 

"Derek, so help me..." 

Stiles wrapped tighter around Derek, kissing his jaw. 

He whimpered as the renewed thrusting squelched Derek's last load out of Stiles, scratching at his shoulder. 

"It's okay, I'm gonna fill you up again." Derek whispered to him. 

"Feels so good filling me." Stiles moaned, and Derek's brain was like an old Walkman, dropped and thoroughly skipping. 

"Stiles..." Derek was worried, and it opened Stiles's eyes. "I...this shouldn't...you're..." 

"Give me a word I can go off of, Derek." 

" _Heat_. 'S not s'posed to happen...not real..." 

Stiles moaned, shaking his head. "Are--Can you really...?" 

"Heats aren't supposed to happen..." 

Derek was still hard inside him, and Stiles moaned. "Fuck it--fuck me." 

Stiles's legs wrapped around him, pressing him into Stiles deeper. Derek groaned, tucking his face into the hollow of Stiles's jaw and fucking him in earnest. "We c-can't keep...I have to see what's going on, I can't...if you get pregnant..." 

"You're loaded, right?" Stiles laughed. 

"That isn't it, Stiles! You're not _built_ for it!" 

"These are my mother's hips, Derek--" 

"Stiles, you're male if you don't remember that!" Derek hissed, "We can't take care of you!" 

Stiles pressed his mouth to Derek's. Derek wrapped around Stiles, lifting and walking, ignoring Stiles snarling at him. Derek walked them into the bathroom, pressing him against the wall of the shower and wrapping his hands around Stiles's wrists. 

"God, I want you--" 

"Your cock is up my ass, Derek; you have me." 

"We...we shouldn't." 

"Fuck 'shouldn't'."


	8. Skin to Bones

Stiles woke slowly, the pleasant soreness of the night before almost overriding the lingering strain of what had come before that. Derek's back was bathed in sunlight, his breathing even and deep with sleep, and Stiles couldn't stop himself from spreading his fingers over Derek's matchless skin, tracing the swirls of his tattoo idly while Derek simply slept on. 

Stretching out against the bed, Stiles took stock of himself after the intensity of the night before: the thrum of want want want still buzzing under his skin for Derek to take him apart. Stiles had read about the theory of heats, and he did have to admit that it was almost a compulsion to touch Derek now; painful to refuse and desperately necessary. Stiles licked his lips, shifting closer to Derek and pressing his lips to Derek's skin, wrapping his arms around him properly. 

His phone shrilled from the floor halfway across the room, and Derek moaned, shifting out of Stiles's arms only to flop over, covering Stiles under him thoroughly. "No phone." 

"That's my dad's ringtone..." Stiles was giving token struggle, but Derek still groaned and relented, half-rolling to let him free. 

Stiles groaned, because that wasn't want he'd wanted at all, but he clawed his way upright, whining in the back of his throat at the dull ache of emptiness. He limped to his phone, and didn't so much as flinch when Derek was suddenly an overheated presence pressed against his back, hands stroking over his pale skin. 

"Stilinski." Stiles answered the phone, closing his eyes and leaning back into Derek's arms. 

_"A body's been found, torn apart. I'd love to keep you on the sidelines for this, but...Laura's been looking into this guy, she and I both have. With the suspicion that he was one of the men that helped to set the Hale fire. This...I've never seen something like this before, kid."_

Stiles swallowed, half-turning to Derek, looking up at him, "I'll be there in twenty." He hung up, laying a hand on Derek's chest, "I know you want to come; you know exactly why you can't." 

A muscle worked in Derek's jaw, his nostrils flaring as he tore his eyes away, chewing back his argument, "I can follow in the shadows." 

Stiles reached up, cupping a long-fingered hand around his jaw, "I have to do my job." He reached up on tip-toe, pressing his lips to Derek's. "I'll be back before long." 

He let Derek crowd him against the shower wall, kissing him as hard and deep as he needed to be kissed. Stiles eased himself into Derek's arms, offering himself up as Derek slotted a leg between his thighs, sighing out his frustration at having to let Stiles leave. 

"If Laura and dad have been looking into the fire together, it'll only get solved all the quicker." 

"If something is killing the men who helped her set the fire, then I'll be on that hit list." Stiles's hands tightened painfully around Derek's wrists, flipping them around and pinning Derek to the shower wall with his hands over his head, startled and now vulnerable. 

"You are not guilty of any such thing," Stiles snarled, "that whore used you. I _wish_ I'd been the one to kill her." 

Derek had the power of the two of them, but in that moment, with hot water pounding down around them and Stiles's long fingers pressing bruises around his wrists, Derek felt like the wolf in him was showing its belly just as much as the man in him wanted nothing more than to fold to his lover's wrath. 

"If someone is killing the men who helped to set the fire, then I'll be only too happy to catch them, if only to get the rest of that list." Stiles's eyes were still blazing, and Derek's face was crumpled with a startled submission. "It's good that Laura teamed up with my dad. It means less sneaking around him, and he's really the only good cop on the force here, so avoiding his suspicion helps. I will catch this bastard and anyone else who's had so much as a whisper of being connected to the fire. Then I'll let them see what it's really like to burn." 

Stiles rocked forwards, the kiss savage as he bit into Derek's mouth, keeping his wrists pinned. For as human as he was, Derek knew that Stiles was not a force to be trifled with when it came to his job. Given the chance to protect him, Stiles would go to any lengths necessary. 

Derek whimpered into his mouth, relaxing his body against Stiles's as much as being pinned to the wall would allow, and groaned when Stiles finally let go of his hands, running his fingers over Derek's chest while he kissed every word Derek had ever known out of his head. Stiles's hands were everywhere, and it was worse than being pinned to the wall, those damnably clever fingers kneading and pinching at his skin, flitting over sensitive spots like he was playing a particularly fast, cheery tune. Stiles had him trying to buck his hips within minutes, and when Stiles closed his fist around Derek's erection, Derek let out a cry, his head banging back against the tiled wall as he just let Stiles do what he wanted. 

Stiles's free hand pulled at his hip, and Stiles took advantage of Derek's submission to step back and watch as his hand stroked over Derek's cock; watching as he spread precum down his shaft and rubbed his thumbnail over the slit, making Derek buck hard into his hand. Stiles traced over Derek's body like he was memorizing a particularly gorgeous piece of art, only stopping when Derek's hands were fists against the wall, and his head was thrown to the side, body a tense arc, needing to come. Stiles dropped free hand down, kneading lightly at Derek's balls before pressing one finger against his perinium, Derek's orgasm bursting out of him despite his best efforts to hold himself back. Stiles watched all of it, his eyes taking in every heaving breath and every flicker of pleasure writing over Derek's features as he slumped down against the wall, cheeks aflame. 

Derek opened hazy eyes to Stiles as his hand continued to work on Derek's softening cock, the tight ring of his fingers around the knot forming making Derek want to crawl away from the total focus Stiles had affixed him with. Derek reached out, just hoping Stiles would let him touch now, and he moaned in the back of his throat when Stiles did. Pulling him closer, Derek swallowed, opening his eyes to take in the man who'd managed to play his body like a piano. 

Derek pushed him back again, and it was only a split second of confusion before he dropped to his knees, Stiles growling slightly at being forced to let go of Derek's cock. Derek looked up his body, nearly drugged with how much he wanted to take Stiles apart. Stiles was only half-hard, more concerned with Derek than he had been with himself, and Derek gave a moment of thanks for that, because it meant that as he swallowed Stiles's long, thin cock to the root, he got to feel Stiles swell against his tongue. 

Stiles let out a grunt like he'd just been punched with his arousal, and Derek hummed happily when those damnable fingers gripped his hair. Stiles let out a moan as Derek's hands folded around his hips, rocking him until Stiles was fucking Derek's mouth, the pace controlled by Derek's capable hands. The grip in Derek's dark hair tightened, and Stiles bit out a curse when Derek moaned. 

Derek swallowed him down, his fingers digging bruises into Stiles's hips as he licked and sucked Stiles through every wave of pleasure. Stiles whined, tugging Derek off of him before slumping to the shower floor, into his arms. Derek and he kissed languidly in the spray of water. When Derek had to tear his lips away, desperate for air, Stiles tugged him in and down, laying Derek's ear against his chest as he pulled his fingers soothingly through Derek's hair. "Go back to bed, I'll join you soon enough." 

Stiles kissed Derek one last time, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue until Derek whined, his cock twitching as the knot went down for another round. Stiles bit his neck before he flung himself up and out of the shower, hand closing possessively over Derek's dick. 

"I'm going to want that in me when I come back." Derek resisted the urge to keep him from moving, watching Stiles with blown pupils as he threw his clothes on and disappeared, the front door slamming shut a moment later, leaving Derek naked and smeared in his own come in the bottom of the shower, helplessly turned on and on the tipping point of desperate to fuck Stiles silly just as soon as he could. 

Stiles looked like lightning when he arrived at the crime scene; and that had been part of his plan: anger that he'd been called away from taking Derek apart translated easily into a frustration that his lover wouldn't be seeking medical attention; that there was an ongoing fight on the subject. 

His father turned to him, arms crossed over his chest, and didn't say a word about Stiles having skipped out on being properly released from hospital; or about the fact that Stiles had apparently thought it prudent to single-handedly take on a man like the one Stiles had described. 

When the Sheriff of Beacon Hills looked at his son's stormy features, he could see his wife written in every line of stubbornness and defiance. 

He almost felt bad for the high-powered defense attorney who'd gone and gotten himself head over heels for the spitting image of the woman he'd never stopped loving. 

He knew the what the headache of loving both of them was like.


End file.
